


Cream on Chrome

by kogimaru



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Bad Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kogimaru/pseuds/kogimaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little fun for you and me. But mostly me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cream on Chrome

Jack runs his hand through his gel-stiff hair to brush it free from the faint sheen of sweat beading on his forehead; the company board members file into his personal meeting room, on time just as they should be. Jack notes that his gesture of nerves was oddly Rhys-like, before kicking the man in question lightly where he crouched between Jack’s legs under the meeting table. Rhys hadn’t even bothered answering his question about when the board meeting started and crawled down under the table and into Jack’s feet space without so much as a word. After a moment of shuffling to get comfortable, Rhys pulled Jack towards him by the seat of his chair, his hand between Jack’s crotch enough to capture the older man’s full attention. Rhys smirked at him mischievously, stroking an eager hand down his thigh.

Jack was going to crack an easy joke to ease the mood so they could get to something fun when someone knocked on the door to the meeting room, making him jolt reflexively. He assumed maybe Rhys was going for…more of a quickie and less of a…performance with a full audience and concessions. Jack wasn’t even sure that was Rhys’ thing… Jack doesn’t bother standing to greet anyone - since he doesn’t normally do this anyway – and mules silently as everyone settles into their seats while Rhys begins kneading the meat of his calf, patiently reminding him he was there. A quick little flutter in his chest has him sickly interested…

Jack tenses awkwardly as his frustration mounts, his eyes darting across the table in front of him as he feels his fly being slowly unzipped. He scoffs dryly to himself, swallowing the playful remark about Rhys’ unusual speed that he couldn’t say out loud and glares at an inquiring board member who offered him a concerned smile. Under the table, Rhys’ cold hands slide into Jack’s pants – he can feel the chill brushing up against the flat of his stomach before rubbing down gently on his dick – making him shiver at the contrast of the warmth flushing his skin. Rhys’ pries his pants open and tugs them down some, Jack sliding in his chair just a bit, trying to make it seem like a natural slouch. His hand snakes up the bottom of Jack’s underwear and tease him even more by tickling the softer skin across the dip of his pelvis.

Everything was happening so fast, Jack did not catch anyone’s names as they began introducing themselves…he kept stealing looks below the edge of the table…trying to comprehend what Rhys was doing. Jack wasn’t shy about these things but it was something he didn’t know Rhys was into himself…in fact, it seemed very un-Rhys-like…and now Jack could only assume he was up to something suspicious. The leg space was closed off –mostly for Jack’s prior sake and love of distance between himself and others – so Rhys was lucky, but it didn’t mean he was entirely unnoticeable. Jack didn’t care so much about getting obvious head during a meeting, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten it ever before. But if he knew Rhys at all he knew that wouldn’t be all he was getting…and _that_ was something he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with people seeing…

Rhys tilts his head into Jack’s lap, biting at the fabric of his underwear a little as he curls his hand gently around Jack’s cock. He’s still pretty flaccid and not really feeling this whole thing…until Rhys pulls back the edge of his underwear and _slurps_ the head of his penis into his mouth, which is a pleasant shock of warm and wet and welcoming…and completely unexpected. Jack jumps, his knee smacking the bottom of the table just in time to cover up the sound of Rhys’ _slurping_ …which Jack realizes was entirely intentional and he finds the board members eyeing him nervously. Clearing his throat, Jack folds his arms across his chest and settles further into his chair as if nothing was wrong, still trying to avoid the board members’ suspicious glances. They continue talking and seem to fearfully shy away from turning the conversation towards Jack…which was probably wise considered how hot he was beginning to feel with Rhys’ breath blowing all over his saliva-sticky hard on. Why was he wearing so many clothes anyways? He’d never bothered thinking about it until now.

Rhys’ lips curl against the flesh of Jack’s growing erection, the eagerness of his tongue working Jack into a quick hardness, and oh it’s _so_ irritating. The way Rhys squeezes and rubs the soft and sensitive mound of foreskin beneath the head of Jack’s cock in circles with his thumb after spreading it down over the length. Jack grits his teeth as Rhys pulls the foreskin between his lips and gently rolls his tongue on it, his other hand busy pulling idly at a loose handful of Jack’s pants. Whatever is being presented to him, Jack can no longer concentrate on any of it even if he for some reason desired to do so in the first place. Why was he here and not fucking around with Rhys in his office like usual? What even stirred this on? Jack is focused so hard on the feeling of Rhys’ mouth, he snakes a hand into the younger man’s hair, pulling back hard when Rhys’ response is try swallowing him down in one go. Jack clears his throat loudly over the committee’s conversation, attempting to cover up the faint moan he can feel all around his dick. Fuck this little asshole. How fucking dare he.

“I-is everything ok, sir?” Someone’s nearby P.A. whispers to Jack shielded behind her hand like some idiot, to Jack like he was some idiot while everyone else continuing on as usual.

“ _Fine_ , sweetheart.” He could rip this P.A.’s head off he was so frustrated; not being able to act out in his situation, not being able to fuck into Rhys’ mouth to his heart’s content. His knuckles are white as they grab at the edge of the table, “W-would you mind, taking notes for me?”

“Uh…certainly, sir…?” _Shit_ he was stuttering. Before he can explain himself, there’s suddenly fingers sliding between the crevices of his thigh and lower…Jack jerks up straight, Rhys’ fingers prying into the cleft of his ass. Oh, no, no. The P.A. flinches from Jack and turns back to the main conversation, which has steered into some presentation of flow charts, entirely deterred from whatever weird thing is happening to Jack at the moment, lease she be spaced. Jack could space everyone in that room if only they would get the fuck out.

Rhys’ fingers continue searching for Jack’s entrance, twisting into his hairs uncomfortably, encouraging him to spread his legs a little wider. A trickle of something warm slips down into Rhys’ prying hand off of Jack’s scrotum, the younger man pulling away to spit into his hand some more as well. Built saliva, Jack realizes and exhales hard through his nose in an effort to calm himself. _Stupid little shit._ Rhys mouths sloppily on the head of Jack’s dick, not bothering to avoid making a mess of Jack’s pants with his consciously placed slews of drool and spit. God he was so irritatingly good at using his mouth now. His fingers finally find their target, circling the clenched ring of muscles of Jack’s hole patiently, just feeling – no, spreading the saliva from Rhys’ fingers.

Rhys pulls off of Jack’s dick and he curls his chrome-laden palm around the base of Jack’s shaft, snug against his body. He must have been dripping, certainly Rhys would taste when he was ready, although Jack was much too preoccupied himself. Holding him firmly, Rhys laps lazily at the slit of Jack’s pampered erection, light and occasionally interrupted by a light puff of air as he held back from breathing too hard or too noisily. Jack wants to scream and moan and kill everyone in the room all at once, but he can’t, not when everyone else in attendance of this stupid, pointless board meeting could possibly discover his preference of catching the fuck out of Rhys’ fingers. One of them slips in by just the tip, and Jack has to bite his own lip uncomfortably hard to stop himself from crying out.

“Sir, are you sure you’re ok?” Oh, the P.A. again. Fantastic. Jack runs his hand through his hair, impatient with a sudden chill settling on his skin reminding him of how long he was being drawn out. Much too long, he decided. Somewhere below him, Rhys rests his cheek onto Jack’s thigh, his breath hot and sticky and maybe he would pass out trying not to breathe so hard.

“You know what,” Jack raises his voice over the flow of conversation, regaining confidence as he pushes Rhys away by his forehead, preventing the younger man from torturing Jack’s body any further. “Everyone. Out. We can reschedule, I’m not feeling it today, yadda yadda, whatever. Get out, NOW.” The board members are all looking at him now and mill around stupidly for a moment before Jack can see the idea slowly setting into their eyes. Under the table Rhys’ mouth finds its way around the sharp of Jack’s knee and nibbles impatiently. “Get out!” His voice breaks at its peak, but everyone in the room still flees in comical fear. Or it would be, if Jack could even be concerned with them for much longer. “And don’t bother me.” Jack adds as an afterthought when the last panicked board member exits the room, closing the door behind them.

Jack waits until their presences disperses a bit before rolling away from the table a little in his chair, far enough to see Rhys’ face as he stumbles out of the shadow of the table to follow. His lips are slightly swollen from being wrapped around Jack’s dick and his neck is flushed red with warmth and arousal, but he follows Jack on his knees so _obediently_ -

“What’s up, Rhysie, huh?” Jack’s voice is weak with strain, and of all of the things he thought of saying to Rhys earlier die easily along with his restraint. Jack leans up to shimmy his pants off of one leg, removing one shoe in the process, too impatient to remove the other. “You thought that was a good idea, pumpkin?”

“No, I thought-” Rhys slides between Jack’s knees readily, his hands coming up under the bend of the older man’s knees. His softened mouth melds to the muscle of Jack’s thigh, kissing and rubbing closer and closer to his crotch again as he speaks. “No. It was a stupid idea, you’re right. I should have fucked you on the desk in front of everyone.”

“Shh, shut up,” Jack couldn’t fake disapproving of the idea now that he was so worked up, but Rhys’ sharp tongue was still mildly irritating no matter what state of arousal Jack was in.

Jack accidentally makes a little noise of surprise when his chair dips backwards as Rhys pushes his legs up and sets them on the arm-rests to relieve the weight. Rhys’ hands slide further down Jack’s thighs, spread him apart confidently. Rhys stares Jack straight in the eye before he lowers his mouth to Jack’s entrance. _Fuck_ , Rhys was intense. He was worse off than Jack, he had to be. Jack was going to say something to rile him up a little but he already plunges right in, slick tongue probing Jack’s entrance like he was hungry for it. Wait…of course he was.

Winding his hand into Rhys’ ruined hair, Jack pets him with a pleasant sigh that is tinged with a whine. “Sometime today, kiddo, jeez-“ Jack tries to laugh but it only sounds like he can’t restrain himself much longer. And if he’s being honest, he really _really_ can’t.

Luckily it’s one of the few times Rhys gets the idea, and he withdraws his tongue, wiping his face with the dangling leg of Jack’s pants. Jack grimaces but otherwise doesn’t comment, he just wants to get on with it.

“Come on,” Rhys huffs as he gets up off his knees and grabs Jack by the arm, pulling him clumsily out of the chair. On his feet Jack finds his legs are very weak, but he makes it to the table somehow, stumbling back against its cold edge. He shivers as Rhys closes in around him, guiding him back until he sits up on the edge, tip-toeing off the ground.

Jack feels a little playful now that he has Rhys all to himself – he grabs along the younger man’s crotch, feeling the rise of his nearly untouched erection strained tight against his slacks. Rhys grabs his shoulder hard, squeezing it to brace himself against Jack’s caressing. He groans, trembling lightly in his arousal, “Jack…”

Jack smirks as Rhys reaches down and wraps his robotic arm around the older man’s thigh, tilting him down onto the table with a gentle thud. Jack spreads his legs willingly now, although it’s frustrating to think about…Rhys does not let him dwell on it. His finger is sliding into Jack’s body again, slow and flexing against the curve, stretching. Jack doesn’t hold back his noises this time around. He raises and folds his legs, his feet rested unsteadily against the edge of the table, as he begins moving back into Rhys’ probing finger. Fuck, what is _taking_ so long? Reaching for Rhys’ collar, Jack leans up into a crunched position that squeezes the breath out of him momentarily, grabbing onto the front of Rhys’ shirt and pulling him into a sharp kiss – his teeth clamping down on the younger man’s mouth and muffling his responding moans. Jack urges him on with a growl, his unsteady voice laced with an angry edge.

Pressed back down onto the desk again, Rhys drops his pants quickly and guides Jack closer by his hips. Stroking himself a few times as Jack settles down, Rhys braces a hand on Jack’s bent knee as he rubs the head of his erection against the older man’s entrance. When it doesn’t go in, Rhys digs a thumb past the ring of muscles, attempting to spread it open while pressing himself in again with a little more force.

Jack cries out, whining at the sudden burn, “Sssshit, Rhys,” Ok, perhaps he didn’t mean _so_ quickly. Rhys’ brow furrows in frustration and his voice drops low and trembles hard, like he’s holding back a growl of his own. A rough moan simpering in his throat, Rhys presses harder, slowly sinking into Jack’s body. Jack squirms with the familiar pain, gasping and audibly clenching his teeth. Rhys pulls out a bit and lets Jack catch his breath before pressing in again. “Will you- give me a minute-” Rhys slows to an inching pace, grinning as Jack glares up at him edging on exhaustion.

“You okay? You’re okay,” Rhys leans down to press a kiss to Jack’s sweaty forehead, running a soothing palm along his stomach.

“It hurts-.” Jack leans away from Rhys’s suffocating proximity and picks idly at his clothes as he toys with the idea of removing them, somewhat calmed by Rhys’ menstruations when the younger man begins pumping his dick leisurely. Rhys exhales steadily before pressing in all over again, making Jack grab onto him with an angry groan. “Asshole…”

Rhys only bites his lip as if to concentrate, holding on to one of Jack’s legs for support as he thrusts in. The resistance is chafing and painful even for him at first, but Rhys gathers some saliva in his mouth before carefully dribbling it where their bodies are connected. Jack makes a face but does not complain otherwise…that is until Rhys works himself all the way to the hilt, rubbing Jack snugly from the inside. He wasn’t too big usually, but at the moment Rhys was harder than he normally ever go. Jack observes the way that his thighs literally quiver, feeling that quiet rise of something thick and haughty in his chest just looking at the way Rhys hangs over him. He doesn’t think he can keep this up much longer…

“Jack-” Rhys calling to him brings him out of a short daze. Scooting up on his elbows, Jack wiggles closer to Rhys, noticing how terribly full he feels the more he moves around on the dick inside of him. It’s raw and very overwhelming when Rhys starts moving, even at a slow pace. The drag feels harsh at first but takes to what slick there is, and with just a few inching thrusts Jack is already breathing hard from the sensations. If they had skipped the foreplay this wouldn’t be so impossible.

Stationary in a moment of noisy breathing, Jack and Rhys both seem to lose their fire... “We… _you_ should have used lube.” Jack lets his head rest against the table, trying to ignore the mix of annoyance and distress written across Rhys’ dumb face.

“Well…where’s the lube, then?” Rhys sighs, planting his hands on either side of Jack’s hips and tapping a finger impatiently. Jack does not answer.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm....sorry, lol.


End file.
